


One Night Only Offer

by sexypliergrumps



Series: Pizza Boy and Redneck Are So Kinks [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Biting, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rough Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Vague Incest, Voyeurism, bad phonetic accents, but then he keeps watching so, like written in white pencil kinda incest, pink fruity cocktails for Asian fruity guys, redneck is so a kink, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexypliergrumps/pseuds/sexypliergrumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more of the crappy beer he drank, the better the decision seemed. Not that getting fucked be a redneck he met in a crappy sports bar was such a bad idea to begin with. It was downright fantastic, actually, given the week he’d had.</p><p>Or; Glenn is drinking alone until Merle decided to take him outside so they can make interesting use of a back alleyway. Yup.</p><p>Prequel to Special Delivery, can probably be read separate.</p><p>Rating: They bang and it’s kinky</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Only Offer

Sometimes, Glenn has really bad ideas. Like really, horrifically bad. Going drinking with a total of one friend on his Friday night off was definitely one of them. Especially seen as that friend got booty-called at precisely 11:17 and bailed on him.

Fuck T-Dog. Fuck T-Dog and fuck his omnipresent, never seen by any of his friends, civil rights attorney ladyfriend. How did T-Dog even meet an attorney anyway? An apparently really hot, blonde, blue-eyed babe from Florida with a thing for “dangerous men”? (T-Dog worked as a security officer at a mall, he didn’t even carry a _gun_ , for crying out loud). Was the world just conspiring against Glenn until he made a terrible decision that ruined his life forever?

But, really, the more of the crappy beer he drinks (and I mean, why the fuck had he listened to T-Dog when he’d said it was a good sports bar, Glenn didn’t even like baseball) the better the decision seems. Not that getting fucked be a redneck he'd met in a crappy sports bar was such a bad idea to begin with. It was downright fantastic, actually, given the week of “I ordered a Classic with this, not Zero”s and “Didn’t I say _double-dough_ quarter pepperoni, quarter anchovies, quarter ham and pineapple, quarter what-the-fuck-ever?” he’d had.

He was _this_ close to smashing a pizza into someone’s face and if he didn’t get laid with something not run on batteries he was gonna end up getting himself fired. Or arrested.  He shot his gaze over to Redneck-Bear. He was half-assedly watching the football on the tv, swilling the beer ‘round and ‘round in his pint glass, before he downs it and turns his gaze back to Glenn.

Instead of looking away when he gets caught, Glenn grins at the guy and gets a full blast of Lech-o-vision for his troubles. He turns his attention back to his own (still crappy) beer and glugs it down, making a face. A surprising lull in the near-constant yelling of the bars many, _many_ other, incredibly drunk patrons allows him to hear a chuckle and, before he knows it, there's a neon pink cocktail in front of him. Maraschino cherries and everything.

The bartender gives him a funny look before elaborating, just a brief “Merle thought you’d enjoy this’un better”, and sidles off, muttering about how his beer was the best in town. Glenn’s eyes are already fixed on Redneck-Bear. The fucker gives Glenn another lechy smirk and a sarcastic finger wave. Glenn repays it by ignoring him completely and popping a cherry in his mouth and making a big deal of licking the sticky stuff off his fingers. _Very_ suggestively.

He’s moved on to the drink (which actually didn’t taste like as much of a nuclear health hazard as it looked) when the seat (ie bar stool) next to him suddenly vacated and is refilled by Mr “I’m gonna fuck you in the pick-up truck I probably own”. He's wearing black leather and cowboy boots. _God, Glenn knew how to pick ‘em._

“So, let’s cut ta the chase, yeah? Ya don’t come here often, ah think ya’re hot, wanna go fuck in an alleyway?” Glenn chokes on his violently girly drink. “You are… brutally blunt, did you know that?” The guy smirks his 110-watt lechy grin again. “Brutal in all aspects o’ life, chinadoll.” Glenn scoffed. _Racist too? Way to go, Glenn._ “I’m Glenn and I’m Korean.” **  
**

“Ah’m Merle and ah don’t give a hooker’s panties what ya are, unless that’s ‘begging for it’.” Glenn tips back his head and takes about half a glass of the coconut-and-rainbows cocktail with him. “Well than God for small mercies. Alleyway? You don’t have a car or something?” Redneck-Hot-Stuff smirks. “Ah got a bike. A  _Triumph_. Could ride us out somewhere private if ya’re embarrassed.” The smirk’s back (if it ever fucking left). “Nah, alley’s fine, just a little cold.”

Merle snorts. “Almost summer. Could go skinny-dipping in this weather.” Glenn raises an eyebrow, leaving a few bills on the counter for his beers. “Maybe. If you’re a crazy bastard.” Merle grins, all calm-eyed and mean and Glenn knows right then and there he’s in for the fuck of his life. “That so?” He’s _growling_ and, God help him, but Glenn’s totally into it, already walking out the door, edging between the bar’s drunk-or-getting-drunk crowd.

Once they’re outside in the cold air, it seems realer than the orange light and scarred wood of the bar would have made him believe. He’s got lube and condoms (who didn’t go out drinking without their trusty neighbourhood rubber?) but this guy is built and dangerous-looking and even though it’s turning Glenn on, like a lot, he reminds himself where his pepper spray is and makes sure there are ways out of his situation.

Even so, he’s stumbling a little, drunker than tipsy and more sober than flat out fucked up, but bad, and giggly, and soon he’s just leaning against a rough wall, looking at Merle’s lips. Mind reader that this redneck obviously is, those lips crash smack into his and suddenly he’s seventeen again, in the back of Daniel Bennet’s stupid showy car, about to come in his pants, with warnings of what would happen to him should he ever let slip what the star of the lacrosse team really did to pretty boys ringing loud in is ears, moaning like mad.

Apparently, Merle’s into the whole horny teenager/porn star thing that seems to happen to Glenn _every single time_ he hooks up drunk (which, in his, opinion, is getting old) and just shoves Glenn into the wall with his whole body and grinds lots of interesting parts together, which Glenn, being his newly seventeen-again self, is totally fine with.

But soon he needs, physically fucking _needs_ , to get down on his knees and tear open Merle’s fly, and behold his dick and, dear God, it is big. He looks up at Merle, uncertain now, and tries not to blush. “I don’t think my condoms will fit you.” Merle smirks and pulls a foil-wrapped gold package out of one of the pockets of his leathers. “Ya knew ya were getting laid tonight?”

Glenn opts against answering that question and instead uses his mouth to help roll the condom up the amazing specimen of cock he’d been presented with. It was a stretch, getting his mouth around it, especially when he was so out of practice, but he perseveres and, inthe end, is rewarded by a bout of cursing so rude sailors were probably apologizing for no reason a hundred miles away.

Glenn tries his hardest to root around in his pocket for lube, unbutton his trousers _and_ stay upright, all whilst being face-fucked, which was far from easy, but he manages it, somehow, in the dark, whilst half-blind on beer and fruity cocktail (and cock). He pulls off Merle’s dick, trying to ignore the way the tugging on his hair does things to him deep down (in his dick) and grins (probably stupidly) up at his new “buddy”.

“You wanna fuck me, right?” After a brief cameo from Surprise, Lechy Grin takes centre stage as Merle nods. Glenn stands up and very unceremoniously uncaps his lube and starts to stretch himself open. His eyes slide closed, his mouth falls open and he barely registers it when Merle spins him ‘round and bends him against the wall, apparently not only to get a better view.

With one hand spreading his cheeks, the other moves callused fingers almost (but not quite) gently up Glenn’s ass before they harshly make room for themselves inside him. Glenn tries to bite back the wanton noise that could only be described as a keen and works his fingers over his prostrate, even as Merle’s scissors him open. “God, ya’re so wet for it, ain’t ya? Knew ya were gettin’ fucked tonight, knew ya’d find someone to make ya beg and whimper for it, didn’t ya?”

And even if Merle hadn’t just hit the kink jackpot (except for one he’d never reveal to some redneck in an alleyway for fear of losing his life to a blade or, worse, _blue balls_ ), Glenn never had liked being fucked unless there was a little stretch involved, so he just lets his mouth fall open, moaning for it, pleading between deep, panted breaths and Merle gets the picture soon enough. Glenn’s pretty sure that this is actually the fuck of his life, and Merle’s not even thrust into him properly yet. And, oh God, when he does, Glenn doesn't even see stars, just rough concrete wall in front of him, as Merle bottoms out and, fuck, if the stretch doesn't burn in just the right way.

Soon enough, Glenn’s got his whole upper body braced against the wall in a rather awkward (read: probably gonna hate himself for it in the morning) position to stop Merle from just fucking him right through the wall, which seems to be his mission. Unfortunately, Glenn can’t quite manage to get a complaint out between intakes of breath and little whimpers of “more, god yes, more”, so Merle keeps on going and the feeling of him moving harshly in and out of Glenn is just on the right side of too much. His hands tangled in his hair as he pounds Glenn into the wall of the bar make the feeling inside Glenn keep on building and building and then it just breaks and he thinks he sees God or Nirvana or something cause he was letting out a choked cry of “Oh, fuck, Merle!” and coming all over his own jeans, dick not even touched.

Merle groans, long and low, and starts drawing out his thrust, torturing Glenn’s post-orgasmic body for all it was worth. “God, ah knew ya were a cockslut the minute ya walked in, but that was something else, chinadoll.” Glenn pants something incomprehensible and tries his best to squeeze Merle’s orgasm out of him before he literally kills him with his dick and it kinda works, except it takes a while and then Merle just grabs him by the hair, pulls him flush up against his chest and bites him _hard_ on the neck.

Glenn’s indigent squeak is drowned out by the groan Merle makes as he comes, before slumping the pair of them against the wall. Glenn was still dumb-foundedly scrabbling around trying to pull his hoodie (which was barely hanging onto his shoulders after Merle's rough treatment) back on when Merle pulls out and, planting a hard slap on Glenn's waist that made him ache for round two and a kiss over his impossible-to-cover-mega-hickey, yanks up Glenn’s jeans and fastens up his own.

“Ya come by this place again next time ya wanna good screw, ya hear, gook?” Glenn huffs out a breath and checks to make sure he still had his wallet and, much more importantly, his bus pass. _Yeah, like this is anything more than a one night thing._ “Sure, Merle. Thanks for the great sex.”

As he saunters (more like limps) away, the chuckled “Anytime” follows behind him and he tries hard to quell the urge to take it literally. Damn sexy redneck bastard.

-x-

Daryl’s dick is rock hard and begging to be let out of his jeans, but, as the Asian kid rounds the corner, he knows what's coming next. Jacking off would have to wait. “How long ya bin standin’ there, little brother?” Asshole. Merle knew how long he’d been there, watching Merle fuck some kid into the back wall of this stupid bar he insisted they go to.

“Long enough. Why’d you do that?” Merle lights up a cigarette, probably just to piss Daryl off and saunters closer, eyeing the bulge in Daryl's boxers. “'Cause ah ain’t had a bitch since ah got out and ‘cause ah ain’t never had a zipperhead ‘fore and ‘cause the kid were desperate for some action. Only right to ease another man’s sufferin’, right, little brother?” His eyes slide down Daryl’s body again and he smirks.

Daryl glowers at him and stalks past him. He’d come out here to make sure his brother wasn’t beating the shit outta that kid and now he's gonna say “fuck Merle and fuck football and fuck ‘bonding’, his parole officer can suck my dick” and go home and find some decent porn and take care of business. Like he always did. God, he really needed to get some real action real soon.

-x-

Saturday was always “the night after the night Merle got laid and Daryl got horny and nothing else”, when they stayed in watched shitty cable and rang the pizza company ten minutes before closing just to fuck with the deliver guy. Merle didn’t even register the doorbell, just took another swig of beer and watched, apparently engrossed, as the main character of the current B movie electrocuted his wife with is new weather powers.

Daryl huffs and mutters “lazy asshole” before pulling himself up off the couch, dumping his own empty beer bottle in the sink on the way. When he yanks open the door, he nearly shuts it again in shock. “Meatlover’s double-dough, with two large Fanta Oranges?”

He nods mutely, then, not taking his eyes off that pretty, damn familiar face, reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He came up with a receipt for the gas station. “Erm…” Behind him there was a lot of thumping and heavy footsteps and then a voice that the kid was bound to recognize booms from the kitchen.

“Hey, asshole, ya forgot yar wallet!” The footsteps get closer and he almost wants to shove the poor kid away to avoid his embarrassment before… “Dingus.” Merle whacks him on the back of the head before actually paying attention to the kid. “Well. When ah said ‘anytime’ ah didn’t expect ya ta stalk me, china doll.” _Oh no no don’t you fucking dare, Merle!_

“Daryl, ya remember this hot piece of ass from last night, right? Reckon we should invite him in; get him to put on another show for ya?” One look at the kid’s face tells him they feel just about the same; mortified, confused and more than a little turned on. And the smart-mouthed little fucker qoes and opens his yap and probably damns them all to hell.

“Well, I’m game if you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Dun dun duuuuuuuuun. And those begins the regular sexy times and concludes this prequel.  
> Aside note, to prove I actually do my research; bike fanatic consensus does state that Merle's bike is some kind of modified Triumph and although T-Dog's actor stated that before the virus he had a blue collar job I think he'd suit the whole mall cop thing so shush  
> Hope you all enjoyed; please comment either way C: Happy holidays, good sex, I mean will, to all men, women and everything between <3


End file.
